Stag Night Hen Party
by MollyCoddles
Summary: The Gryffindor Four are out on the town, causing Remus and Tonks to reflect on the colours of their lives, among other things. Introducing Gil Pinkyhunk, the one legged pole dancing stripper! NTRL, HPGW, RWHG
1. Night on the Town

Disclaimer: JKR only wishes she could have this much fun…

A/N: This was spawned by a late night discussion that involved a sip fest with my dear online friend and fellow HP fan, Deena. She's an inspiration, even (especially?) since she thinks I'm insane.

**_Stag Night Hen Party _**

"Hey Harry," Ron slurred, trying to fix his gaze on the pink flamingo behind the bar. "Why are fal-phfla-mingos pink? First time I saw one, I thought Fred 'n' George had got loose in the zoo. Crazy-lookin' things, yeah? And pink. Why pink? Pink birds. Weird."

"They're pink because they eat shrimp and metabolize it into canthaxanthin, which turns them pink," Hermione intoned, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah mate, and don't let Lupin hear you say anything bad about pink," Harry advised, none too soberly. "I'm pretty sure that's his favorite color. Especially on birds." He glanced around uneasily.

Ginny sauntered into the room then, effectively stunning Harry into speechlessness. "Hullo boys," she breezed. "How goes the adventure in Firewhiskey?"

Hermione groaned. "Badly enough that I want a shot so I can forget this whole evening."

"Oh come on! Where's your sense of humor? Our boys are funny drunks." Ginny ruffled Harry's mussed hair affectionately.

"Hey baby." He gave her an exaggerated appraisal and grinned invitingly. "What's your sign?"

"My sign says, 'I'm with Stupid' and has an arrow that points to you." She chuckled, transfiguring the letters o her t-shirt. "Good thing you don't have to actually use pick up lines in pubs. You're terrible."

Harry snared her waist, pulling her into his lap. "I could probably think of better ones, but if that one works to snag a gorgeous redhead, who'm I to complain?"

"I think you've had enough to drink." Ginny shook her head and held her fingers over her nose, warding off his breath.

"You are gettin' so lucky tonight," he mumbled, nuzzling her neck.

Ginny snorted with laughter. "That's what you said before – just before you passed out and I had to levitate you home. Forgive me if I'd prefer you sober for that particular activity."

"I 'member the first time Ron told me to snog his sister." Harry gazed ceilingward, fondly reminiscent. "It was back in sixth year, an' he said, 'Harry, that's it – get lucky!'"

Hermione gave him a scathing look. "You're delusional. He was talking about using Felix Felicis to get that memory from Slughorn."

"Yeah, but my mind was _elsewhere_." Harry wiggled his eyebrows at Ginny. "I took it completely out of context."

"He can't hold his liquor, tha's for sure." Ron grimaced. "No way did I ever suggest he get lucky with Ginny. That's just _wrong_."

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Why must you boys do this sort of thing? It's so juvenile."

"So you girls can feel superior and judgmental." Ron nodded sagely. "We only do it for you. 'Cuz we love you."

Ginny giggled. Whether from Ron's comment or Harry's frisky fingers tickling up her ribs, it was impossible to say.

"Hey Harry," Ron continued. "Le's turn Snape into a bunny."

"Okay." Harry patted his pockets for his wand, squinting around the establishment. "Where is he?"

"He's not here," Hermione huffed. "For Merlin's sake, boys, please make some attempt at intelligent behavior."

Fred suddenly bounded over to them. "You guys find the whore crutches?"

"Pardon me?" Hermione's eyes were huge. "Where did you hear about those?" She glanced around anxiously. "You shouldn't talk so loud. Someone could overhear."

Ginny leaned over to whisper in her ear. "He didn't say Horcruxes, Hermy."

"Oh." Hermione blinked. "Sorry. What are you looking for, Fred?"

"Whore crutches," he explained. "Well, she's not a whore, really. She's a very nice girl. She's a one-legged stripper, actually. Got a discount on account of the one-legged thing, see. Anyway, she wants her crutches so she can go home."

Ron looked askance at Harry. "There's a stripper here?"

"Where?" Harry tried to look around Ginny, who promptly smacked his shoulder. "Stop with the physical violence, slave girl," he growled.

"Slave girl?" Ginny sputtered.

"Mm, yeah." Harry gave her a solemn look. "Made a deal with your dad, see. All those life debts from your family. He offered me his youngest child as payment."

Ginny shrieked with indignation and laughter. "You are such a prat! And don't even think about it."

"Think about what?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Transfiguring my clothes into that Princess Leia slave girl costume I know you were just fantasizing about. Remember what happened to Jabba the Hutt," she threatened. "And I refuse to wear my hair in danishes on the sides of my head."

"Tough luck, mate." Ron eyed Hermione appraisingly, completely missing the warning glare she gave him.

"Time for the boys to head home, don't you think?" Ginny indicated the fireplace. "They're in no condition to Apparate. We'll just floo them back to the Burrow." Her lips curved in a conniving little smile. "Mum ought to be able to strike a little fear in their hearts, yeah?"

"Whirling in the floo will probably be enough to leave a bad taste in their mouths for the whole experience, I would imagine." Hermione grinned as they pushed their young men into the flames, sending them on to the Burrow.

* * *

Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks sat in a booth on the far side of the Leaky Cauldron, shamelessly eavesdropping. "Can you believe that whole discussion spawned from a question on why flamingos are pink?" Remus observed. 

"Yes." Tonks answered, digging into her salad.

Remus gestured at her plate. "Shrimp must be your favorite food then."

"Mmm, I do love shrimp." She popped one in her mouth before offering him a bite of broccoli. "Once, when I was a kid, I wondered if what I ate affected my morphing abilities. I would only eat pink foods one week; green the next, and so on. I have to say, the white week was my least favorite. Potatoes, bread, rice pudding… There just aren't many exciting white foods."

"Indeed." Remus nodded once, not so much in agreement as amused tolerance.

"Are you getting condescending with me?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Never," he denied, hands up in surrender.

"Too bad. I rather hoped, because I would've enjoyed kicking your arse later."

"I tremble in fear," Remus held out his hand, rock steady.

"'S'alright." She deliberately removed the salad dressing from the tip of a baby carrot with her lips and tongue that bordered on indecency. "I know how to make you quiver."

Feigning nonchalance, he relaxed back in his chair; his lean body sprawled in the way he knew invited her to straddle his lap.

"Don't tempt me, Remus," she said warningly. "Wild monkey sex will ensue, and we'll get kicked out of this fine establishment."

"I've never understood the appeal of sex with a wild monkey," he reflected, stroking his jaw with his fingertips as he perused a crack in the ceiling.

"That's unfortunate. I can visualize you swinging from the chandelier."

"Tarzan fantasies, much?" Remus raised a sardonic eyebrow.

Tonks sniggered through a mouthful of tomato. She swallowed quickly. "You'd look good in a breechclout," she mused, licking her lips and fingering her wand.

"Save your attempts at clothing transfiguration for later," he warned. "Think of the report you'd have to file at work over something like that."

"Why aren't you eating?" she asked. "Your steak will get cold."

"Just enjoying the view." His smile was wolfish.

"Oh good." She dipped a strawberry in her chocolate milkshake and touched it to his lips. "I thought watching me eat was ruining your _appetite_."

"I must admit, one appetite is fast giving way to another." He licked the chocolate off his lips.

"I'll try to curb my appeal so you can eat," she said saucily. "You've got to keep your strength up, you know. Not that you have any problem keeping anything up."

Remus huffed, shaking his head as he finally turned to his plate. Deftly, he cut his steak into bite-sized pieces. He seasoned his potato and regarded his green beans before glancing over at Tonks' colorful meal.

"What?"

"You never told me the results of your experiment as a child." He lifted a forkful of pale potato.

"What experi-? Oh, right, the food colors," she remembered. "Well, actually, it worked rather well. My pinks were pinker, my greens were greener. Hm, I sound like an ad for coloursafe laundry detergent. Anyway, guess it just goes to show, we are what we eat."

Lupin perused his plate again. "That'd make me a cow."

"Oh no, love." Tonks licked her lips. "That makes you a big slice of beefcake."


	2. All That Glitters

Disclaimer: No disrespect or copyright infringement intended to JKR. Not that anything in this is recognizably hers anyway… I also must attribute a quote to Top Gun. And the Lone Ranger. And possibly Mister Ed…  
Summary: Gil needs help from an old friend. Will she make him see the light?

A/N: I wasn't quite sure where to post this. It's a bit of backstory for Gil Pinkyhunk, containing no actual HP characters, so I decided to add it to the one-shot she premiered in, before she even had a proper name. ;)

_**All That Glitters**_

Hooves clicked on smooth tile. Gil Pinkyhunk, one-legged up-and-coming wonder of the Wizarding entertainment world, looked up at the sound, her expression guarded.

"Argentum," she greeted, hiding a bout of nerves with a cool smile.

"I expected to see you long before now." He scanned her critically.

He stamped impatiently. "Come," he commanded, spinning on polished rear hooves, blond tail swishing in his wake.

Gil followed; her long, skimming leaps keeping pace with the palomino centaur. Her heart raced, and not from jumping.

She'd been granted an interview. That alone was a miracle from the heavens, considering the demand for his talents. His fees were astronomical, but he was worth it. Now, to convince him to help her...

Argentum led her to a room at the end of the corridor and waved his hand brusquely, indicating Gil should sit.

"Have you seen the stars?" he asked abruptly, pouring her tea.

She shot a faintly apprehensive glance at the enchanted ceiling and walls. "Not in the way you have, I'm sure."

His lips tilted in a tight, smug smile as he handed her the delicate cup. "Indeed."

"They're beautiful, of course," she acknowledged cautiously, taking a sip. She wanted - nay, _needed_ - his services, but he was notoriously temperamental, and she must choose her comments with care. Her heart sank when she noticed his nostrils already flaring.

"'Beautiful?' More than mere _beauty_," he snorted. "Stars are nothing – an utterly useless, meaningless existence – without someone to illustrate their potential."

Irritated with his pretentiousness and her own apparent lack of pursasive ability (at least in the realm of conceited centaurs), Gil cast her gaze on the floor. "You are very illuminating, I'm sure."

"It is an _art_," he insisted coldly. "And I am a Master."

She pursed her lips and nodded, hoping for the composure to mask annoyance with reverence. Perhaps she still had a chance. _Always on a high horse_, she thought, but said, "The world is undoubtedly a far lovlier place because of you."

His eyes narrowed. "There are a multitude of others who would better appreciate my skills," he said with a sneer of contempt. "You never took me seriously."

Gil stepped up her flattery. "But I do! I sincerely appreciate your talents. Your ability is unsurpassed." _As is your arrogance,_ she added silently. "Please, accept me as a client. You're the only one I can trust. My future is on the line. I need you."

He pretended indifference, but preened, just a bit.

Gil held out her hand. "You are widely acknowledged as the best in your craft. I realize you are very busy, but I need your expertise. Please, will you help me? As a favour to an old friend?"

He frowned as he took her reaching palm, examining it closely. "You've seen others."

"I am here now," she said simply.

"I should not do this," Argentum growled, shaking his platinum mane as he turned away, dropping her hand.

_So close,_ she thought, fists clenching in frustration. She stood and sidled closer to him, gingerly trailing her fingers down his glossy golden withers and shoulders.

"We knew each other once," she cajoled, fingernails tracing the path of darker hair along his spine. "We were such good friends."

"Hmm. You left, forsaking me to seek your fortune elsewhere."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to prove I could go it alone. It was merely a-" _Not mulish, don't say that._ –"ah, childish independent streak." Her fingers coaxed as much as her voice as she gained confidence, sensing his indecision.

She changed the subject. "Do you remember the time we visited the hot springs together?"

Argentum huffed and shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. "That was many revolutions ago. The steam and mead were a heady combination."

"Very. It was delightful." Gil's hands slid up his bare back to rub his shoulders.

She raised up on tiptoe, close enough to breathe in his ear. "Hey you big stud, take me to bed or lose me forever," she whispered.

His whistling laughter sounded like a neigh. "I remember that phrase. As well as, 'Hi Ho Silver, away!'"

"Watch who you're calling 'Ho,' Silver."

He paused. "No one calls me Silver anymore."

"The Latin version suits you better these days."

He stepped back abruptly, turning to regard her grudgingly once more. "You've matured well since your student days at Hogwarts."

"And you're a long way from the Forbidden Forest." She smiled wistfully. "I've missed you."

She watched him carefully; saw his eyes close as he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in deliberation.

He looked up finally, meeting her hopeful gaze.

"Aurum!" he called.

Hooves clattered in the hall. "Yes, Brother?" asked a second palomino centaur from the doorway.

"Your services are required," said Argentum sharply. "Please bring the necessary items. We shall begin with steam."

Gil collapsed in the chair, weak and giddy with relief.

As his brother left, Argentum moved to stand behind her, a model of professionalism and efficiency. He ran his fingers through her long, reddish tresses. "A colour charm, herbal wrap, manicure, pedicure… I shall make you a _star_."


End file.
